


prologue

by carminesunset



Series: AFTG Bingo 2018 [10]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Not Human, Dragons, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 01:29:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17315519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carminesunset/pseuds/carminesunset
Summary: This fic is actually a bit that I cut from my Dragon!Andrew and Fae!Neil fic. I ended up not finishing it because I found out that the premise was almost identical to another fic 😅 Basically, Andrew is a human cursed to be in Dragon form and forced to stay on a mountain to keep him from seeking help. Neil is half-Fae, half-human and on the run from Riko and his men. (Also his father’s men) He comes across Andrew in his cave.(AFTG Andreil Bingo Prompt: Nonhuman AU)





	prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This particular section I cut because I wasn’t satisfied with how it turned out and because it didn’t fit within the plot. It’s really rough, but I hope you enjoy anyways!

“Help! Someone, please! Bandits!” At the sound of screams, Alex’s head jerked up into alertness and he nearly fell out of the tree he was resting in.

He listened for a moment at the sounds of a scuffle happening on the road nearby. A part of him knew he shouldn’t, but the sounds of a child crying spurred him into action. If his mother were here, she would surely strangle him for the soft heartedness he was about to show. He slipped from the tree, landing in the underbrush quietly.

As he crept toward the treeline, the voices became more distinct.

“Get out of your cart! And don’t even think of trying any funny business.”

He ducked behind a bush and observed the four men holding what looked to be like a merchant family hostage. One of the men had a little boy by the back of his neck, holding a glinting knife to his throat. Two others were brandishing swords toward the merchant and his wife.

“Please,” begged the merchant. “Just – take everything. Just don’t hurt my wife or my child.” The merchant only had one cart; he certainly wasn’t a merchant of any large means. If anything, he was more a traveling salesman.

The last one was certainly the leader. He stepped forward from where he was lingering in the background, and Alex could feel the magic seeping off his breath. Unlike his own magic or fae magic, it didn’t feel of nature. It was dark and musty.

This man was a warlock.

Warlocks, unlike regular born magic users, made a pact with an entity to gain their abilities. Most of these entities required the act of certain… deeds before the magic was granted. Alex grit his teeth.

“There’s no use begging,” murmured the warlock. Then, to the other men: “Go ahead and kill them. We’ll make use of their bodies once we take their supplies.” The woman let out a sobbing cry and lurched forward toward her child, but one of the men struck her with the pommel of the sword, knocking her to the ground. He lifted his sword to kill her, but he was too late – Alex had already stabbed him through the heart with an icicle.

The man dropped his sword, to the horror of his compatriots, and stepped back once, twice, before falling face down to the gravel, dead.

“What the fu –” was all that the man holding the child hostage managed before dying to another icicle to his throat. It took only a breath and a moment later and the man standing above the merchant was also collapsed to the ground.

“Get back to the tree line. It won’t be safe here,” Alex warned the merchant. He nodded fearfully and ran to his child and wife, who was just stirring from the strike earlier. Finally he could face the warlock.

The warlock didn’t seem bothered at all by his compatriots’ deaths. Instead, he was idly peering at Alex.

“You’re a natural born magic user. Rare in this kingdom, especially since the Moriyamas…” He straightened up from his slouch and his gaze traveled higher, where Alex’s true hair color was showing. He hadn’t had time since his mother died to re-dye his hair, and it showed. “Huh. Red hair… I wonder what color your eyes are?” The warlock grinned maliciously at him. “Though I guess if I kill you, I can find out easily.”

“You can fucking try,” Alex muttered and then they were fighting. This was the first time Alex had ever been in a fight against a warlock, and the difference in their skill was obvious. The warlock had been observant and knew Neil’s preference for water magic. His usual shards of ice were easily blocked by the sludge of the warlock’s magic.

They traded blows, and eventually Alex was overcome and blasted backwards into the merchant’s cart, knocking the breath out of him. The warlock sent a wave of fire which he barely managed to dodge — he couldn’t say the same for the cart. If it was at all salvageable then, there was no way it could be saved now.

“No!” Alex heard from nearby. It was the merchant, tearfully watching from the sidelines. “You monsters! That was our livelihood!”

He unintentionally distracted the Warlock, though, and it was enough time for Alex to literally steal his breath. He had only ever seen this attempted once, by his own mother as they escaped Evermore. She wasn’t successful, then, and she was left with a scar almost neatly bisecting her torso. But now, anger and desperation fueled his lagging energy, and he called the air to rush from the warlock’s lungs.

The warlock’s face turned red, then blue, and then he collapsed to his knees. His eyes bulged and he clawed at his throat. Eventually, he died.

The rush of power faded from Alex almost instantly.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to choke out to the merchant and his family. He wasn’t sure if they heard him over the roar of the flames engulfing the cart. He could hear his mother now.

_“You can’t trust anyone, Abram. Not even me. Because even I will leave you, someday. Your priority is to survive.”_

He should have listened — she was never wrong. A fortnight after he saved the merchant’s family, her words were proven right when he was ambushed in the dead of night.

-

When he woke up, weak and in pain, he was being dragged across marble floors. It took nearly all his strength to lift up his head to look around him. Black. Red. Blood? No, banners. Red banners adorned with black ravens. Castle Evermore. The dread that enveloped him then almost made him puke. Castle Evermore meant that his plan hadn’t worked, that he wasn’t able to escape. If his mother was alive, she would have been so disappointed in him.

He grit his teeth. He spent all his life running away. If it was anytime that he was going to return, it would be now.

The guards holding him threw him to the ground, doing nothing when his head met the hard floor with an audible crack. He struggled up to his knees and looked up.

He was in a dark room lit only by minimal torchlight. There were racks upon the walls filled with all manners of instruments – torture instruments, he figured, considering the old blood along the floor and on the table in the center of the room. As his gaze swept the room, his eyes alighted on the bright, clean boots in front of him and traveled up, up.

Riko Moriyama.

When their eyes met, the prince’s smug smile turned cruel.

“It’s too bad your father isn’t here, Nathaniel,” Riko said, bending down to grip his chin harshly. “I’m sure he would have loved to see what I’m going to do to you.”

“Fuck you,” he snarled and spat on Riko’s face.

The prince’s expression hardened. “You’ve always been so rude. Perhaps tonight will help you… regain your manners.”

He pulled out a handkerchief with a flourish and wiped away the mess on his face. When he was done, he looked past him toward the guards, gestured at him, then stepped back. The guards hoisted Nathaniel up by the armpits and strapped him to the table as he weakly struggled. When he was tied down, Riko leaned over him again, brushing gloved fingers across his face and hair.

“Now this won’t do,” Riko hummed and with a breath of magic, crumbled his disguise into dust. He brushed away the last specks of magic with mock tenderness. “Perfect. You have such beautiful eyes. It would be a shame to hide them as you cried.”

“Don’t you dare -” Nathaniel struggled against the ropes strapping him down, despite knowing it would do him no good. Riko snapped his fingers and a tiny black flame appeared on his pointer finger. His other hand gripped Neil’s jaw harshly, preventing him from budging or speaking.

“Don’t be afraid to scream. You’ll need it.” And then Riko was burning him, burning him from the inside-out, carving – something on his face. “This is to remind you that no matter where you are, no matter who you decide to pretend to be, you will always belong to the Moriyamas.” No no no no no – “You are Nathaniel Wesninski, and you are nothing.”

He screamed.

-

The next time he woke, he was on his back. Everything hurt. By the Gods, even his hair hurt, and the cold stone pressed against him didn’t help at all. With a shaking hand, he touched the mark that he knew marred his cheek. His skin was warm with fever, but his skin still felt smooth and unblemished.

Then again, he suspected it was a mark not made of any mere magic; the magic the Moriyamas wielded was far more ancient and dark than anything he was capable of. He dreaded to see it, but gross curiosity curled in his stomach. He heaved himself up into a sitting position. Just as he thought; he was in a prison cell. On the floor laid a pitiful straw mattress, not even suitable for a barn animal. In the corner was a small basin and jug - likely water, though who knew how often they would give him it. In the other corner was a chamber pot. The cell was dirty, but there was just enough moonlight peeking through the tiny window that he could see himself in the reflection of the metal bars.

What he saw nearly made him throw up.

Graced upon his left cheek in striking lines was the crest of the Moriyamas: a raven, wings unfurled in victory.

You will always belong to the Moriyamas.

This mark, this brand would declare to all who he belonged to. There was no more running, no more disguises, no more hiding.

He was then jerked from his trance when he heard the scuff of a boot outside his cell. Nathaniel backed away immediately, pressing his back against the cell wall. A cloaked figure appeared in front of the cell doors. After a moment, the figure pulled down the hood, revealing a human man just about his age with blonde hair. The man was shorter in stature than even Nathaniel, and the expression on his face could only be described as pained.

“You’re Nathaniel?” The man whispered, mindful of the other prisoners sleeping. The whisper still sounded deafening in the night. “My name is Aaron. Aaron Minyard.” Not quite his full name, but a deliberate choice nonetheless. An olive branch.

“What do you want?” asked Neil, watching him carefully as he approached the bars.

The man stopped for a moment, and glanced to the side - listening for guards no doubt - and crouched down. He reached into his boot and pulled out a set of lockpicks. “I’m going to get you out.” He leaned forward and began to examine the lock on the cell door. As he did, the dim glint of the moon highlighted more of his features, including the Raven banner emblazoned on the front of his tunic.

Nathaniel lurched forward and reached through the bars, grasping at the man’s tunic and pulling him forward against the bars. Aaron fumbled with the lockpicks and dropped them, and they both stopped in fear, waiting to see if a guard or another prisoner had noticed.

Nothing. Nathaniel pulled him closer.

“Who the fuck are you, really?” Nathaniel hissed. “Everyone knows those affiliated with the Moriyamas are not to be trusted.”

“I may belong to the Moriyamas, but I am not one of them!” Aaron pulled at Nathaniel’s fist, but was unable to budge him.

“You really expect me to believe someone wearing their crest?”

“Are you saying you willingly wear that brand?” Aaron jerked his chin toward the mark upon Nathaniel’s face. “I had a brother. A twin brother. I wasn’t able to save him, but at least I can save you.” At those last words, Aaron’s voice cracked and Nathaniel could see the sheen of tears in his eyes. He looked into his eyes for another moment, but was unable to detect a lie. He let go of the other man and backed away from the cell door. If Aaron wiped away the trace of tears, Nathaniel pretended not to see it.

The other man picked up the lockpicks again and set to work, pausing every few moments to make sure no one was approaching. Neither of them spoke, even when the lock was finally popped open and the cell door swung open with a quiet creak.

When Nathaniel stepped out of the cell, he watched Aaron carefully as he pulled a pack off his back and handed it to him.

“Take it,” he said. “This should hold enough supplies to last you a week – maybe a fortnite if you’re really careful.” He waited a moment for Nathaniel to check the insides before handing him a bundle of cloth. As Nathaniel shook it out, he realized it was a cloak. “Go east. I’ll set a false trail leading to the west for you, but I don’t know how long that will last.”

“There are other prisoners here,” Nathaniel said as he shrugged on the cloak under the pack. “Why me?”

“I know who you are.” His eyes flickered to his distinctly red hair, and Nathaniel scowled. “The other people here. They’re worthless. Useless. But you’ve been running for all your life. What you know, what you have experienced – you have more of a chance than any of us here.”

“What about you? Won’t they kill you for this?”

The look in Aaron’s eyes was hard. “Only if they catch me.” He turned with a swirl of his cloak and pulled up the hood again. “Follow me.”

They crept through the castle. It seemed as though Aaron had the guard schedules memorized because they would dart into seemingly random corridors until they were outside its walls. Somehow, they remained unseen.

Nathaniel glanced back up at Castle Evermore’s walls. Even knowing he was once again free, the hulking mass filled him with dread.

“This is where I leave you,” Aaron whispered. Nathaniel nodded and pulled up the hood of the cloak. Aaron’s gaze alighted on the brand upon Nathaniel’s cheek and he hesitated for a moment before pulling a scarf from around his own neck.

“Aaron?”

He handed Nathaniel the scarf, and as he did, Nathaniel could see the mark of the Raven wrapped around his throat. “There’s no magic that can hide that mark. Not even the magic of a Fae. Take it.”

He took it and wrapped it around his face thrice for good measure.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Aaron said, already turning away. “Just… live. And if one day you can avenge me and my brother…”

“I understand.” Nathaniel murmured and left.

**Author's Note:**

> x-posted on Tumblr: https://mokuuton.tumblr.com/post/181602815512
> 
> Unfortunately, I didn't have time to finish the full fic in time for the bingo. I have a lot of fondness for it, so I'll probably finish it after reworking to make sure I'm not unintentionally copying anyone.. :p  
> yes, yes....... i am posting it on here so late.... work has been busting my ass though D:


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